Nevada County picayune., 1887-02-09

ttOn appeared lt VaniSheu.
 Imagine my feelings; l cannot describe them. I verify believe that my hair stood upon end. A stupor followed this fear and Il trance-like slumber. How long remained in this condition 1 knew not at the time, but we'll do I re. member the awakening from the trance. My nervous system was totally deranged, my hands re fused to do service; in fact, I had not the strength to light match 10 look at my watch. With groan l sank back upon my bed of snow. l tried to sleep, but in vain. All I could do was to think. Had l seen Ludwig von L., or his spirit! the real man or a phantomi
 At last relief came. Icould not be mistaken. 1 heard the footsteps of a small body of men. They ap' preached the shed. Yes, but not with the steady tread of the sol dler. Heavens! could it be the Franctireurs. those bloodthirsty guerrillaS and hyenas of the bat. tlefield! I tried to fortify myself for an attack. 1 tried to arouse my physical self Before l could rise or make move the door Of the shed was rudely opened A rough face showed itself. It was that of the leader of a noted gIer, rilla band. The Franctireur ell. tered. He approached. cooked his revolver, and said with mock politeness, in broken German. "Monsier, prepare to die.' Max ing an effort to reach my own weapon, at this moment l was startled by the words; "Not he, but youw
 Looking up I saw the pallid and frightened face of the Franctireur, and by his side-could it possiblef -Lieut. von L.. pointing a Dis. tol at the heart of the asslssln. The excitement proved too much for my shattered nerves, and just as I heard the explosion of pis. tol I lost consciousness.
 When I revived it was s o'clock in the morning. By my side stood Major M, commander of the advanced outposts, and a detach- ment of Saxon Infantry.
 "Well done, my lad," said the major, aud with that he pointed to an object lying by my side cover ed with a field blanket.
 "What do you mean, MajorW l inquired fain,ly, not understanding his remark.
 "Well. mean that you have dis matched the worst hound of a guer rilla who ever disgraced coun- try"
 Like flash the mysterious ap- partition presented itself to my mind, and hastily calling a Corpor' al bade him extract the bullet from the dead Franc,ireur's wound. Then I produced my revolver and found that not shot had been fired from it. l compared the bul. lets used by me with that extract. ed from the wound. They were of different weight. The mystery was unsolved. Who had shot my enemyf
 The battle predicted by the staff officer was not fought on that day. and I was glad of it, for the exciting scenes of the previous night compelled me to rest for some time. On the fifth day after my adventure l received a letter from SayOny Here it is:
 "MY DEAR IR,--Our dear son Ludwig breathed his last at four this morning. Upon his arrival here the doctors pronounced his case hopeless. Up to s o'clock last evening his recovery seemed assured. At that hour he suddenly grew restless, called out your name three or four times and ex- claiming, "Beware of the Francti- reurs!n fell into deep slumber or trance. He remained in this con dition until 3 o'clock, when he arose up with q start, fell back up- on the bed unconscious, and at 4 o'clock died in his mothers arms.
 "With best wishes,
 "Your obedient servant,
 "GEoRGE ALEXANDER NoN L--."
 My story is finished. Ineca on ly add that the ball extracted from the body of the Franctireur cor responded in weight with those in the revolver of my deceased